


Too Late

by candy_kayn



Category: League of Legends
Genre: my first fanfic ;w;
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27040162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candy_kayn/pseuds/candy_kayn
Summary: Where General Marcus Du Couteau is actually a pretty chill dad and tries to find a cure for Cassiopeia's curse. This was made for the r/loreofleague Spooky Fanfic competition! Was kind of rushed and is my first fanfic owo so I really don't know how to use this website xDConstructive criticism is much appreciated!
Kudos: 4





	Too Late

It was early in the morning when the stranger entered the Daring Darling’s Inn, but his gait, ever so silent, made no noise, and Fayette, the owner of the inn had her back towards him, searching for the master key in the various cabinets and cupboards that decorated the wall. The stranger, a man of few words, stood there for a few minutes, listening to her string of curses until he finally cleared his throat. Flinching, Fayette whipped around and let out a sigh of relief when she realized it was just another visitor.

“My deepest apologies, sir,” she said sheepishly, bowing her head. “It appears that I’ve misplaced the master key, and with the Harrowing scheduled to happen so soon, I’m a little on edge.” She offered him a small smile, but the man didn’t move a single muscle, so she continued, “By the looks of it, you seem to be new around here. This inn is dedicated to those who wish to find ancient treasure and artifacts that hide under the fallen rubble in the Isles. Though is it safe for me to assume you already knew that?” she asked, the man nodding slightly in reply. “Perhaps you already have a trip planned out, then.”

The man nodded again. “Yes,” he said. His voice was deep and had the accent of high nobility, though muffled by the scarf that covered over half his face, spare his piercing green eyes. Wearing a long black trenchcoat with the hood covering his dark red hair, the man looked like he was trying not to gather attention but failing to do so; to Fayette, he was like a rich merchant from Piltover trying to disguise himself as a Zaunite in the Sump. “I’d like to borrow a boat and leave as soon as possible if you don’t mind.” His answers were short and brief.

Fayette narrowed her eyes as she examined her guest. Something about the tone of his voice… despite his guarded demeanor, she could’ve sworn she heard a hint of desperation. Or was it just her imagination?

“Is there a problem?” The man’s impatient voice cut in, clearing her thoughts. She blinked and looked at her guest, whose emerald eyes were stormy with agitation. _Noxian, no doubt_ , she thought.

Fayette shook her head and grinned nonchalantly. “No, I was just thinking about how lucky you are that the rest of the treasure hunters are still asleep. Yes,” she said, a bit relieved to see the man relax a little, “I can provide you with a boat right away.” With a wave of her hand, she walked to the door and past him. “Follow me.”

\-----

_Thresh could sense him. His anxiety, his desperation, his poor efforts to conceal his weak emotions… Yes, he reveled in it. The ghastly specter barely knew what his target looked like, much less his name, but the panicking aura that his victim gave off, even though he was so far away, was like the first sip of freshly brewed Ionian tea. The monstrous spirit chuckled as he held his lantern to his face to take a closer look._

_Millions of souls inhabited the lantern, trapped in there in the form of tiny green orbs. Some simply stayed still while others flew around in madness, desperate to escape the tortures that they were in. Thresh let out a peal of hoarse laughter as he watched a single orb continuously ram into the lantern as if it were trying to get out, but with no avail._

_“You can try all you want, little friend,” rumbled Thresh. “But you will never be free.” He grinned._

_“Because you are mine forever.”_

\----

“Heed my advice, sir,” huffed Fayette as she helped the man drag the boat down to the Daring Darling’s dock. His eyes flickered towards her and raised an eyebrow curiously. She explained, “It’s always the older and experienced ones who actually come back because they listen to me. The young are foolish novices who pay no attention, but if you truly wish to return safe and sound, you’d best listen to my warnings.”

“Educate me,” he said simply.

Fayette couldn’t help laughing at the way the man spoke as they reached the dock and put down the vessel. “Your precision of language is rather charming,” she mused.”Much different from the way Shuriman merchants and Zaunites in debt converse.”

The man snorted. “It’s only natural to pay respect to someone who offers me aid,” he muttered. “So what is the plan?”

“Of course,” said Fayette, dusting her hands. She looked out at the dark waters that lay as the border between the Daring Darling’s and the cursed lands of the Shadow Isles. “Leave early in the morning. Because there’s no lighthouse installed, it’s nearly impossible to find your way back here at night. It’s best to start coming back from the Isles during the late afternoon in order to be safe.”

The man nodded as he retrieved the paddle from the boat and held it firmly in his hands. “Wise words indeed,” he said. “Then I shall be on my way.”

Fayette nodded as she watched the man push the boat onto the water and start to climb in, then realized that he barely had any equipment. “Most treasure hunters bring barrels and chests with them,” she said curiously.

The man shook his head. “Precious jewels and tomes are not what I seek in the Shadow Isles.”

“Then what…?”

His eyes darkened. “That information is concealed, I’m afraid. Perhaps it won’t be of such private matters when I return.” Standing on the sturdy wooden vessel, he began to row away.

“Wait!” Fayette called out, standing near the edge of the dock. “I didn’t catch your name!”

The man continued to row. Without turning around he answered, “Du Couteau. Marcus Du Couteau of the High Command.”

\-----

_He was almost here. And Thresh could hardly wait._

_Barely able to contain his excitement, the beastly spirit closed his eyes and sensed his victim’s presense gettng closer and closer. So close..._

_“Oh, yes,” Thresh said. He opened his eyes and peered at his lantern once more. “He will make a fine addition to my collection indeed.”_

_Smiling a grotesque smile, he continued to wait._

_Soon..._

\----

After hearing word of his youngest daughter Cassiopeia’s ailment, General Marcus Du Couteau had immediately stopped whatever he had been doing in Noxus and traveled to the Shuriman resident where Soreana, his wife, and Cassiopeia were living, taking his older daughter Katarina with him. Not a single word was exchanged between them as they traveled by horseback, but Katarina’s trembling body wrapped tightly against him told Marcus everything.

But when they arrived, it was too late. Whatever curse that had plagued his daughter came with poison so strong that not even the greatest Shuriman physician was able to cure her.

Cassiopeia, the beautiful and intelligent younger daughter of Marcus and Soreana, would forever be changed.  
For the worse.

His fists grew white as his grip on the paddle tightened. He remembered Cassiopeia’s agonizing screams as the toxins overcame her, his wife hyperventilating so hard that it caused her to faint, Katarina’s silent tears streaming down her face.

Marcus had never felt so helpless then. He had retreated to his private study in the manor, yelling at anyone who dared to disturb him. For several days, he had read every medical book there was to find a way to cure his daughter, until on the fifth sleepless night, he remembered the legend of the Sacred Waters, located deep within the Lost City of Helia in the Shadow Isles. Rumored to revive the dead, Marcus desperately hoped that it also had the power to undo Cassiopeia’s curse.

Key word: _hoped_.

If it didn’t… No. Marcus shook his head. He will _not_ think about that possibility. Right now, the only thing he should do was concentrate on finding the Sacred Waters.  
Because when he looked up, the fog had slightly lifted, and he had finally arrived at the shores of the Shadow Isles.

\----

_Like a hound would a bone, Thresh immediately sensed Marcus’ presence. He let out a slow, deliberate chuckle._

_“My friends,” Thresh mused to his lantern and spinned his deadly scythe, “you shall have another companion to join you.”_

_As if they were capable of hearing, Thresh’s lantern shook violently with its million orbs rushing about._

\----

Marcus Du Couteau had heard that the Isles was not a pretty place, but after he tied his boat to a small pole, he realized that he had severely underestimated its… unpleasantness.

As he walked around, greenish-gray fog was everywhere, making it difficult for him to navigate his way through these desolate lands even with his specially trained eyes of an assassin. The few patches of grass beneath his boots were not just dry but made a horribly loud crunching sound, with small echoes following him with every step he took. Dead trees and its rotting branches were scattered throughout, and though he didn’t flinch, the sight of a few festering corpses made Marcus want to empty his stomach.

 _Cassiopeia needs you_ , he told himself. _This is for her_.

He had brought a small glass vial with him to pour the Sacred Waters in, along with several knives and daggers in case he was to fight. An assassin must be armed at all costs.

At least half an hour passed when Marcus suddenly stopped walking. The back of his neck tingled, which could only mean that someone was watching him.

Or some _thing_.

Still as a doe, Marcus made no sound as he calmly looked around the ugly terrain of the Isles with its decaying vegetation and thick green fog with only his eyes.

Something was following him. Something had its eyes on him. But what--

He was barely able to jump in time when a glowing green scythe was thrown in his direction, almost slicing his head in half. Landing neatly on both feet with two daggers out, one on each hand, Marcus faced his opponent, ready to spar. His eyes widened in shock when he saw who it was.

Right in front of Marcus Du Couteau was none other than Thresh, one of the most feared specters in the Shadow Isles who stole the souls of mortals and tortured them for eternity for his own amusement.

He was too stunned to say a word. He could only stare at the horrendous spirit.

Thresh grinned. “ _I have waited far too long for you_ ,” he rumbled. “ _Your soul… I need it. Forfeit to me, mortal_.”

Waking up from his trance, Marcus scoffed. “My soul is not for yours to take freely, monster,” he growled. “Perhaps in my next life I shall offer it to you, should you _beg_.” He threw a knife so swift that it was merely a blur.

Thresh immediately deflected it with his lantern. He guffawed in his horrible voice as he rumbled, “ _Arrogance is indeed a fine price to pay_.” The specter launched his scythe at his target, and though Marcus was nimble enough to dodge, the very tip of the scythe had grazed his foot.

 _I keep overestimating how much range that damn scythe can cover_ , he thought. _It’s risky, but melee is the best choice for now._

Marcus leaped once more, but this time he teleported to Thresh’s right side and thrust a knife onto his neck, but the spirit was too fast and blocked it with his lantern again, throwing his scythe at him once more. With quick thinking, Marcus deflected the blow with the hilt of his two daggers and kicked him right in the chest, causing the spirit to drop his weapons and stumble backwards.

Teleporting to him again, Marcus grabbed the collar of his robe and hovered his dagger to his neck.

“Arrogance, you say?” Marcus sneered. “It’s not being arrogant when the outcome of a fight is so obvious.”

Thresh chuckled. “ _You are correct_ ,” he said. “ _That’s why I said arrogance is a_ fine price to pay.”

Marcus frowned. “What are you--” He was cut off when the lantern, only a few feet away from the two, started to tremble with green fog coming out of it, then shake so violently that the entire Isles seemed to move. The assassin’s eyes grew large as he realized what was happening.

But he was too late.

Again.

“ _Marcus Du Couteau_ ,” Thresh laughed. “ _Greet the others for me_.”


End file.
